


Relief & Release

by rowdyhooligan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, F/M, Hand Jobs, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 18:21:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16877898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowdyhooligan/pseuds/rowdyhooligan
Summary: Dean and Rowena have never seen eye-to-eye, but he’ll be damned if he lets a freed Lucifer get his hands on her.





	Relief & Release

**Author's Note:**

> cross-posted from tumblr: requested by @apritelleorai: Hi! May I request an AU where Dean rescues Rowena from Lucifer before he can kill her? That would be so awesome. Thank you!!

If you were to ask him, Dean Winchester would be the first to admit that he had a lot of faults. He drank too much. He bottled up his emotions. He lied constantly. It was impossible to live the life of a hunter and remain squeaky clean, so no, Dean wasn’t going to ever be a candidate for sainthood. But one thing he could never be accused of was leaving a debt unpaid. No matter what the personal cost, he always paid his dues.

Which is how he found himself taking on the Devil yet again. When he and Sammy first discovered that, not only had their attempt to return Lucifer to the Cage failed but Crowley was to blame for sabotaging their efforts, he thought things couldn’t get any worse…until he found out that Lucifer had broken loose of Crowley’s control and was now free to run wild. There was no doubt in Dean’s mind that his family and friends were at the top of Lucifer’s shit list, and he didn’t waste any time warning the people he cared about.

A thought nagged at the back of his mind, a persistent little voice reminding him that no one had warned Rowena. He and the witch didn’t have the best history- hell, they’d tried to kill each other on more than one occasion- but he couldn’t deny that she had saved their collective asses almost as often. She’d been instrumental in trying to return Lucifer to Hell, which meant she had the biggest target on her back out of all of them.

It didn’t take much to convince Sam that if they wanted to send Lucifer away for good, they would need Rowena. They hauled ass towards her last known location, Baby’s wheels tearing up the blacktop as Sam tried over and over to get hold of her on the phone. Dread crept higher and higher in Dean’s belly with each missed call, the heavy weight of his boot pressing down harder on the accelerator.

Rolling into the driveway of an opulent house, they screeched to a stop, flying out the doors before Baby could fully come to a standstill. The first thing they heard were the screams, a feminine voice shrieking in pain. Sam went around to cover the rear while Dean provided a distraction, kicking in the front door, gun at the ready. Anger burned at his center when he saw Rowena lying bloody on the floor, her face and body a mass of bruises and cuts.

Rising to her feet, she used the advantage of Dean’s entrance to fling a spell at Lucifer, but the enraged archangel shook it off as easily as the bullets Dean fired at him. Lucifer sent Dean flying with a wave of his hand, pain exploding in the hunter’s side when he crashed into a side table. Staggering to his feet with a groan, Dean maneuvered himself in front of Rowena, using his battered body to shield her petite frame as much as possible. He fired at Lucifer until the clip was empty, but to no avail. Heart pounding, he braced himself as Lucifer advanced on them with murder in his eyes.

With his attention fixed on Dean and Rowena, he missed Sam slipping in through the back door, armed with an angel blade. Dean very carefully kept his attention off of his brother so as not to give him away, watching out of the corner of his eye as Sam sliced open his palm, hurriedly painting an angel banishing seal on the wall. Lucifer was nearly on him when Sam slammed his bloody hand down on the sigil, a blindingly radiant light engulfing the archangel. Turning away from the brilliant light, Dean curled around Rowena, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and covering her eyes until the light began to fade, Lucifer’s furious yells echoing long after he vanished. An eerie stillness set in, the only sounds to break the ensuing silence coming from three sets of lungs, each mouthful of air a declaration: I’m alive, I made it, he’s gone.

Peeking around cautiously, Dean took a quick inventory of the situation. Other than the cut on his hand, Sam was unharmed, much to Dean’s relief. His side felt like it was bruised to hell from landing on that side table, but nothing felt broken so he counted it as a win. Rowena on the other hand…Lucifer had done a number on the red head. Now that he had a moment to take stock of her injuries, Dean was surprised she was able to stay on her feet.

The witch was black and blue, bruises scattered across that creamy skin. Her lower lip was busted and swollen, dried blood trickling out of the corner of her mouth. Even more blood stained her clothes from the numerous cuts dug into her flesh. When Dean shifted his arms around her, she let out an involuntary hiss, her long nails curling into the fabric of his jacket. He moved slower after that, unwilling to cause her any more pain. Even so, she looked them both dead in the eyes, no hint of what she’d been through in her fierce gaze.

“Well,” she drawled in that rich brogue, “I’ll say this for you two- you certainly know how to make an entrance.”

“No kidding,” Dean snorted, “we’re a regular pair of white knights.”

“I don’t know that I’d go that far,” she teased back with a small smile, wincing a little when it pulled at her split lip.

Dean couldn’t help but feel concerned, an instinctive protectiveness rearing its head at the sign of pain. Locking eyes with Sam, they came to a silent agreement to take Rowena back to the bunker, where she would be safest while Lucifer was on the loose. Carefully slipping one arm free, he dug his keys of out the pocket of his jacket and tossed them to Sam, who caught them with his uninjured hand.

While Sam went to grab some bandages from Baby’s trunk, Dean cautiously helped Rowena hobble out to the car. Her slight frame was hardly a hindrance to him, even as she leaned heavily into his body. From the way she favored her left leg, Dean could tell she had a sprained ankle, or worse. Dean really, really hoped it wasn’t worse; with Cas off who-knows-where with Kelly, there’d be no angelic healing this time.

Sam had bandaged up his hand and had Baby idling by the time they finally made it out to the car; Dean had to help Rowena into the backseat, only letting go of his hold on her at the last possible second. Gently shutting the door behind her, he slid into the driver’s seat, the familiar rumble of the Impala soothing his battered body. He was on autopilot for much of the drive back, his gaze frequently flicking up to the rear view mirror. Rowena dozed fitfully, shifting in her seat with a slight frown creasing her forehead.

Sam tried to talk, to engage his interest so they could form a plan of attack and take the fight to Lucifer. But Dean was tired, mentally and physically drained. He was exhausted from the constant fighting, from always having to be the ones to save the world. Chuck- God- had called him the firewall between light and darkness, and he was really starting to feel the weight of that responsibility. Eventually Sam gave up, settling into his seat to take a nap. Dean lowered the volume of the stereo, letting the familiar sounds of Robert Plant’s vocals wash over him.

By the time the familiar silhouette of the bunker’s entrance came into view, it was late enough to be called early. Pulling into the garage, Dean shut the engine off with a heavy sigh, taking a moment to collect himself before shaking Sam awake. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, the younger man set to work unpacking their gear from the trunk while Dean set about waking Rowena.

She still had that frown on her face, unable to escape the pain of her injuries even in her sleep. A stray curl of hair fell across her face; without even thinking about it, he reached out to tuck it behind her ear. Even that slight gesture was enough to have her jolting awake, a wild look of panic in her eyes. Dean jumped back to give her space, raising his hands up to show he was unarmed.

“Hey, whoa, take it easy…it’s alright, you’re safe now.”

“I- I thought- he was…” she managed to get out.

“I know, I know,” Dean said soothingly, “it’s just a nightmare; he can’t get you here.”

Not looking entirely convinced, Rowena allowed him to help her out nonetheless, gripping tightly to his arm as he led her down the halls to one of the spare bedrooms. She was stronger than she looked, those fragile looking fingers holding on for dear life. He suspected she was even more injured than she let on, if the death grip on his sleeve was anything to go by. Under normal circumstances, Rowena would never willingly allow herself to be so weak around him.

Easing her down onto the bed, Dean said, “Sit tight, I’ll be back with the first aid kit.”

“No need to worry your pretty little head,” Rowena replied dismissively, “a nice long sleep and I’ll be right as rain in the morning.”

He wasn’t fooled by the note of bravado in her tone. “Yeah, sure you will…or those cuts will get infected and that ankle will be too swollen to walk on.”

She sniffed indignantly. “I don’t need your help, Dean Winchester, I’ll be just fine. I’m a survivor and no little cuts and scrapes are going to do me in.”

He rolled his eyes, too exhausted to argue. “Look, just let me get the damn kit, okay? Being stubborn isn’t gonna do either of us any good Rowena.”

It was a sign of just how much pain she was in that she didn’t put up further argument, simply rolling her eyes. He checked in on Sam, who had already bandaged his palm more securely and was heading to bed. His giant of a baby brother looked about as exhausted as he felt, and Dean made a mental note to check in on him the next day. For now, all he could manage was a weary pat on the back.

By the time he got back to Rowena’s room, she was half asleep, reclining against the headboard and looking very uncomfortable in her gown. Dean came to an abrupt stop, first aid kit in hand; seeing her so unguarded…he didn’t know how to feel. They’d been in such a hurry to get out of there before Lucifer got back, there was no time to grab any of Rowena’s belongings. Literally all she had were the clothes on her back, which wouldn’t do her a lot of good here.

Setting the kit aside, he softly called her name to wake her, taking care to keep his distance to keep her from panicking again. She groggily came to, lines of exhaustion etched into her face. Even so, there was no denying she was still one of the loveliest women Dean had ever seen, her dignity and cunning undimmed by the abuse suffered at Lucifer’s hands. She stretched, stifling a yawn with one delicate hand; Dean’s eyes subconsciously traced the graceful lines of her body. He caught himself staring, turning his focus away before she could notice.

“I’ll be back in a second,” he said gruffly, “forgot to grab some clothes for you- hope you’re okay with flannel.”

“Oh joy, I’ll blend in with the locals,” she mocked tiredly, her voice lacking any venom.

Dean didn’t bother with a response, hurrying to his room to rifle through the dwindling supply of clean shirts and a pair of boxers. Unthinking he opened the door to her room, stopping dead in his tracks when greeted by the sight of Rowena’s naked body. She snatched up the blanket from her bed, wrapping it around her nude form without a word. It didn’t hide the fact she was bare underneath, but it was better than nothing. Dean felt his face flush, but likewise ignored the incident- if she wanted to pretend he hadn’t just seen her naked, he would respect that.

“Here,” he handed the clothes over, ignoring the slight charge when her fingers brushed his. In all the time they’d been at each other’s throats- sometimes literally- he’d never thought of Rowena as a woman. She was just a witch, once an enemy, now an ally of sorts. “It’s the best we’ve got on short notice.”

“Thank you,” she replied with a regal nod.

“So you gonna let me take a look at those injuries, or you gonna be stubborn about it?”

“If you insist,” she huffed.

He didn’t miss the note of gratitude in her tone. “I do.”

He turned his back so she could change, waiting for the all clear before starting on her injuries. Rowena was stoic the entire time he tended her wounds, but despite his best efforts to keep it as painless as possible, Dean knew he had to be hurting her. The smell of antiseptic was strong as he dabbed at the numerous cuts, noting that none of them would need any stitches.

“Ok, that’s the last of ‘am. Now for that ankle,” he said, reaching for her foot. She let him, letting out a stifled hiss as he prodded at the joint. “Nothing feels broken, so it’s probably just a bad sprain…a little ice and a wrap, should be good as new in a few days.”

“Is that your professional opinion?” she asked with a hint of amusement.

He huffed out a tired chuckle. “Trust me- you roll your ankle enough times running down werewolves, you know what to look for. Need anything for the pain?”

“Trust me, dear,” she repeated his words back to him with a slight grin, “once you’ve given birth without the benefit of Demerol, going a few rounds with the Devil is nothing.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Dean was suddenly aware that he still had Rowena’s leg in his lap, absently massaging her calf. Clearing his throat, he said, “Let me go grab that ice- I’ll be back.”

Rowena opened her mouth as if to say something, but quickly shut it again before giving him a brief nod. Dean was once more struck with just how…vulnerable she looked, how fragile. He supposed that anyone would be shaken by what she had just been through; the fact she was holding it together as well as she was spoke to the strength and stubbornness of the witch. Still, he couldn’t help feeling a twinge of protectiveness as he looked her over, so small in his oversized shirt and boxers.

A primal sort of satisfaction went through him at the sight, a feeling he didn’t want to analyze too closely. He moved to rise, but one look from Rowena had him freezing in place. There was something in those green eyes staring back at him that he knew all too well: relief at having lived to see another day, and knowledge of just how close death had come. It was the same look he had after every hunt, every kill, a look that cried out for a distraction masquerading as celebration.

“Rowena…” he trailed off uncertainly, unsure of what he even wanted to say.

In the end it didn’t matter; he would never know who moved first, but the soft press of her lips against his drove any rational thought out the window. Her face was tiny framed between his hands, careful to avoid any of the healing wounds. It was all hunger and need, an affirmation that they were alive. He buried his fingers in her hair, tugging lightly on the silky curls and pulling her closer. Rowena let out a pleased little moan, allowing herself to be brought within easy reach, settling herself firmly in his lap.

Dean licked at the seam of her lips, and the taste of her flooded his mouth as he kissed her over and over again. There was the faint tang of copper and spice as he curled his tongue around hers, losing himself in the moment. They both needed this, this release of pent up emotion. Tomorrow…tomorrow they could go back to how things were, could plan their next step in taking down the Devil. But for tonight, for here and now, the only thing that mattered was the warmth and scent and taste of Rowena.

He slid his hands down her shoulders and arms, encouraging her to wrap them around him. She clung to him, digging her nails into his back as he worked his hands underneath her shirt, running his thumbs along the soft underside of her breasts. Neither of them said a word, content to let their bodies speak for them. Rowena shifts her knees wider, straddling him more securely until the growing ridge of his erection was notched firmly against her clothed slit. Dean groaned into her mouth at the heat of her, his hips jerking up involuntarily and earning a surprised squeal from the woman.

They rocked against each other, the sounds of their labored breathing and soft sighs filling the still air of the room. There was no holding in her delicate groan of pleasure when he began toying with her nipples, flicking at the hard buds with the rough pads of his thumbs before rolling them between his fingers. She ground down harder on the hard line of his cock, swallowing down his moan with a pleased grin.

Dean finally pulled away from her mouth when the need for air became too great to ignore, chest heaving from exertion and excitement. Rowena’s elfin face was flushed with desire, clever eyes dark with want. She didn’t hesitate to reach for the buttons of her shirt, popping them open to leave herself bare to him. But she made no move to shed it completely, something that Dean was fine with; he would never admit it out loud, but she looked damn good in his clothes.

His cock jumped within the tight confines of his jeans when she stood- careful to keep her weight off of her injured ankle- and slipped out of the boxers he’d provided, leaving her cunt on display. Dean groaned at the sight, reaching down to adjust himself. Rowena swatted his hand away, and he was more than happy to let her take control as she deftly undid his belt and the fly of his jeans, lifting his hips enough to push the heavy denim down his legs. His head tipped back with a whispered “Fuck” when her delicate hand wrapped around the hot and heavy length of him, tugging him free of his boxers.

The cool air of the bunker hit his cock and balls, already glistening with beads of precum leaking from the his tip. He heard Rowena suck in a sharp breath, but she didn’t say a word as she adjusted her hold on him. Crawling back into his lap, she pumped him steadily, the red of her nails vivid against the pale skin of his cock. Eyes fluttering shut, he reached out, his hands landing lightly on her waist before sliding down to her thighs and ass, massaging the soft globes in time to her rhythm.

Almost without conscious thought, Dean began thrusting up into her fist, so lost in the moment he wasn’t even aware of doing so as he chased the delicious pressure. With an amused tsk, Rowena slowed to a stop, almost smirking when he let out an annoyed grunt. She waited until his lust glazed eyes focused on her before reaching between her legs, gathering some of her own arousal, a soft moan leaving her as she played with her folds before dipping inside her channel.

Dean was ready to come then and there as he watched her tease herself, but dug his hands into the soft skin of her ass, determined to hold out. Rowena wasn’t making it easy for him, letting out little whimpers and sighs as she worked herself higher, the scent of her sweet pussy hitting Dean’s nose. She was so wet, so ready that he could actually hear it, the lewd sounds of Rowena fucking herself on her own fingers testing his tenuous control. But as much as he ached to be buried in the velvet heat of her, he held off, letting her set the speed.

She didn’t make him wait long; sweat dotting her forehead, Rowena pulled her fingers out of her pussy, using her arousal to slick up Dean’s cock. Rising on her knees, she held him in place as she slowly sank down on him, her breath hitching in her throat as she took him in one fell swoop. Dean shook beneath her, biting back a groan as he finally got to bury himself inside her. Eyes squeezed shut, his forehead landed between her breasts and he struggled to keep from coming prematurely like a goddamn teenager having sex for the first time.

They stayed like that for a moment, both adjusting to the other, before she began squirming in his lap, anxious to move things along. Wrapping his arms around her back, Dean thrust up into her, tentatively at first, but then with more force as she began rocking against him, determined to take him deeper. Rowena’s nails scratched at his back through his shirts, the sting dulled a bit by the layers he hadn’t bothered to shed. Christ, neither of them had even undressed all the way, and all he could think about was the slick grip of her walls around his cock, the way they hugged him as he fucked into her.

The skin between her breasts quickly grew damp with the heat of his breath and sweat as they rutted against each other. The bob and sway of her breasts were too much of a temptation to ignore, and Dean sucked first one, and then the other nipple into his mouth, lapping at them noisily. Rowena trailed one hand up into his hair, grabbing a handful and pressing him harder, closer, demanding he take more into his mouth. He obliged willingly, bringing a hand up to toy with the neglected breast, pulling gutteral moans from the witch bouncing on his cock.

Dean knew he wasn’t going to last long- it had been a long time since he’d last had sex, and finally finding a release for all of the immense pressure on his shoulders wasn’t doing his stamina any favors. Hell, he was surprised he’d lasted this long, but he was determined to get Rowena there first. This may only be a casual fuck, a distraction from facing Lucifer tonight and knowing they’d have to do so again, but Dean never left a partner wanting.

Bracing his feet more firmly against the floor, he began pumping harder into her. Caught off guard by his renewed vigor, Rowena clutched at him even tighter, her knees digging into his sides as she rode him. He wound his fingers in her silky tresses and tugged her head to the side, licking and nibbling at her neck as he fucked her with abandon. It wasn’t long before he felt the telltale fluttering of her walls around him, her body seizing up as she came apart in his arms.

Rowena let out a long, breathy moan as her pussy pulsed around him, the clench and release of that slick heat drawing his own orgasm out of him. Dean buried his face in the crook of her neck as he came with a muffled grunt, the heavy weight of his cock twitching inside her as he spilled himself. His toes curled in his boots as he kept coming and coming, his balls throbbing as he filled her up. He even felt some of his come slip out, dripping down her thighs to coat the both of them. He couldn’t find it in him to care, consumed by the almost painful pleasure.

It was several long moments before their highs began to fade, reality setting in once more. He was keenly aware of sitting on her bed, mostly dressed with his softening cock buried inside her wet and swollen folds. With a hiss, he shifted enough to pull out, a gush of come trickling out of her slit. Rowena let out a soft noise of displeasure at the sticky feeling between her legs, but made no effort to move from her seat in his lap. Dean laughed tiredly, easing her onto the bed where she sprawled out bonelessly, careful of her injuries.

He met her eyes, half shut with exhaustion and sated pleasure; acting on impulse, Dean leaned down and they allowed themselves one last, soft kiss. With the taste of Rowena still on his tongue, he tucked himself back into his clothes, running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to look a little less fucked out, the scent of sex and sweat clinging to them both. He didn’t say anything as he wet a washcloth at the tiny sink in her room, wringing it out before making his way back to the bed and handing it to her.

“Such a gentleman,” she mocked gently, her voice rough from all the noises he’d pulled from her. She flinched a little when the cool cloth hit her hot center, sighing a little as it soothed the aching muscles. Looking up at him, legs spread and shirt hanging open, she added with more sincerity, “Thank you.”

For the washcloth? For the orgasm? For the distraction, or the rescue, or the safe haven? It didn’t matter. “You’re welcome.”

Tossing the cloth aside once she was adequately clean, she accidentally shifted her foot the wrong way, wincing at the sting. “Now, about that ice…”

Dean didn’t fight back his grin, giving an exaggerated bow. “One ice pack, coming right up.”

It was with lighter steps that he made his way to the kitchen. True, none of his responsibilities had disappeared, but at least he didn’t have to shoulder them alone. He was alive, and had his family, his friends, and his allies to help him take on the world and all the evil sonsabitches in it.


End file.
